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Oh God, what were they asking for that her father couldn’t—or wouldn’t—give? Would he possibly be willing to play Russian roulette with her life?
No. Never.
She couldn’t let thoughts like that creep into her head and sever the fragile threads of her prayers.
Please, Dad, she begged silently. Please find a way. I want to come home.
I don’t want to die.
10
Four days left…
Four Seasons Hotel, Palo Alto
27 February
Tuesday, 6:15 a.m. local time
Aidan rolled onto his back and slowly opened his eyes.
The hotel room was cast in shadows, dimly lit only by the streetlamp just outside the curtained windows and the LED display of the clock on the nightstand. The sun wasn’t ready to give way to dawn, so the skies were dark. And Aidan had only gotten an hour and a half of sleep. But his bio clock normally went off every morning at five thirty. It had since his military days.
Today he’d slept late.
He blinked away the final vestiges of sleep and pushed himself to a sitting position, trying not to disturb the sleeping woman beside him.
“No need to be chivalrous. I’m awake.” Simone turned to face him, her dark hair disheveled and a soft smile touching her lips. “I’m flattered I tired you out enough to take even a cat nap.”
Aidan returned her smile, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You did. I’m almost sorry. That’s ninety minutes of a reunion missed.”
“To be continued,” Simone promised, propping herself on her elbow and leaning up to give Aidan a long, melting kiss. “But for now, we have much work to do. Do we have time to share a cup of coffee? Before I head into NanoUSA today, I need to know Vance Pennington’s current state of mind. I must hear how your meeting with him and his wife went last night.”
“I guess you and I didn’t do much talking once I got here, did we?”
“None.” Simone sat up and stretched like a contented cat. “I have no complaints.”
Aidan kissed her bare shoulder. “I’ll order us coffee and a light breakfast. Ladies first in the shower.”
“Firs
t, yes—while you call room service.” Simone climbed out of bed, letting the sheet drop seductively behind her. “Alone, no.” She shot Aidan a teasing look over her shoulder. “In Europe, we conserve water. You Americans are so wasteful. Would you consider trying it my way?”
Aidan was already reaching for the hotel phone. “I’ll be there before the water gets hot.”
47th Street, Diamond District, Manhattan, New York
27 February
Tuesday, 9:20 a.m. local time
Ryan McKay shoved his hands into the pockets of his parka as he turned the corner and made his way down the sidewalk of the perpetually under-construction street. People were either striding rapidly along or halted at a dead standstill, ogling glittering diamonds in showcase windows. The result was sidewalk gridlock and a pedestrian collision course. The patches of snow from last night’s two-inch accumulation didn’t help.
The congestion and chaos were just what Ryan had counted on. Getting lost in the crowd would be a snap. Although, on the flip side, he’d made this trek in the middle of the night many times before, when his contact deemed the cloak of darkness necessary. Ryan didn’t ask questions. He just followed directions. Henry wasn’t the chatting type.
Ryan had been stoked when Terri called and asked him to run this part of the show—stoked enough so that he hadn’t even minded giving up half a night’s sleep doing prep work. The fact that Aidan and Terri had entrusted this part of their investigation to him, labeling him the expert, had fed his ego and kicked up his adrenaline level. Didn’t matter that he wasn’t privy to the why. He was part of the process, and that was good enough for him.
Ideas had erupted in his head like Mount Etna. The result was a solid go. Now all he needed was to meet up with the right person. Together, they’d get the job done.
